Out Of Thin Air

Signs come out of nowhere 
like the small dark bird that fell 
out of the night sky to the gray 

stoop of our mother’s grieving 
house, the heart-shaped fold of 
its wings illuminated in the soft

porch light. Mourning husband, 
father, grandfather, we gathered 
around the mysterious shape, 

holding its presence, circling 
the tangle of feelings hardened 
between us, unable to find 

words through the language of
grief. Keeping vigil, we heard 
its name sung out of thin air. 

Catbird. Slowly, we began to 
mimic each other’s voices, not 
with words, but with song.